


A Nicer Way To Kill It

by Tridraconeus



Category: Paladins: Champions Of The Realm (Video Game)
Genre: (khan's dick), Blowjobs, Crossfaction, Fingering, Kinda, Large Insertion, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, PWP, Rivalry, Size Difference, belly bulge, gaping, hairpulling, if any of this seems noncon just remember that Jenos can crush Khan like a tin can, intercrural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 15:39:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14168079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tridraconeus/pseuds/Tridraconeus
Summary: Aico General Seduces God With The Pleasures Of The Flesh: You Won't Believe What Happens Next!





	A Nicer Way To Kill It

**Author's Note:**

> hahahaha well this isn't something I ever expected to be shipping but I'm a thirsty b I guess

A week ago, Jenos decimated his army. Now, the Peak glowed a soft blue and glittered with stardust, the tiny pinpricks of miniature stars revolving in the sky. Khan left the wounded, exhausted scraps of his army in the valley where they’d fallen after taking stock of the survivors and deciding that they wouldn’t be going much of anywhere for at least two weeks. He left his armor down in camp; he’d expected the confrontation to take place in the monastery after having marched his army up the mountain. Instead, he took the walk alone and was glad for it. It took him an entire day. When he reached the peak, he saw Jenos himself—the man hovered two feet above the ground, hands folded neatly in front of him, head bowed. Meditating, presumably.

“There's nobody here,” Khan opened. Jenos didn't turn to look at him yet; he merely stayed, legs crossed as if he were sitting. “Were they afraid to fight me?”

Jenos said nothing for a long minute. Finally, he spoke. “I sent them away. This was not their fight.” 

“They wanted to.”

“They are _monks,_ ” Jenos said, like a chastisement. “My monks. Some of them are sworn to pacifism.” His tone sharpened. “I would not have them break a vow for me against something as trivial as an army.”

Khan debated being offended at the stinging words; but he still remembered how Jenos had, quite literally, vanquished his army single-handedly. He settled instead for a huff. “Not so trivial if you dealt with it yourself.” 

Jenos finally turned. Whatever height advantage Khan had slowly disappeared as he hovered higher. In the night wind the ends of his belt fluttered against his thigh, flickers of gold fabric. The god hummed, looked Khan over, and if he was surprised he hid it with consummate ease. Khan’s skin prickled; without the shell of his armor the pressure of Jenos’ gaze felt nearly tangible. “Why have you come?” 

This was different from the first time they’d met face to face; gone was the barely-suppressed, seething rage—less an emotion and more a raw force of nature. He didn’t press into Khan’s personal space. He stayed a safe distance away as if he was wary. 

“I’m not trying to trick or trap you,” Khan said. Jenos crossed his arms, distinctly unimpressed. The shadows at the edges of his lips twitched, a frown.

“You couldn’t if you wanted to. I asked  _ why _ , not why not.”

Khan inclined his head in acknowledgement. “I was hoping we could have a civilized conversation. Maybe more.” 

“Maybe more,” Jenos echoed. He came closer until they were even closer than they’d been a week earlier, face-to-face on a battlefield. “I did not take you for the type, Magistrate.” 

The tone of the conversation shifted. Khan was surprised at how easily it did, but it made sense; Jenos had nothing to fear from him or from most people. Had been alone for centuries. An offer of companionship, even from an enemy, would be appealing—and Jenos didn’t seem the type to dally with his followers. 

“What can I say? Power is attractive.”  _ Ugh _ . He cringed inwardly at that. Not because it was false, but because it was too true, and too plain to recover from. Jenos covered his mouth as if to hide a smile. Because he hadn’t been blasted over the side of the cliff yet, Khan decided to push his luck even further. He clasped his hands around Jenos’ waist in the boldest move he’d ever taken against the god—never mind mounting an attack against him, successful or not. The confidence in the move seemed to give Jenos pause. He laid his hands over Khan’s wrists but didn’t make any attempt to pry them off. His hands were a strange sort of warm, buzzing with barely-contained power but outwardly chill, alternating waves of heat and cold. Would the rest of his skin feel the same way? Suddenly, stronger than before, Khan felt the urge to find out.

“So it is,” Jenos agreed. Khan tugged him down slightly until they were at eye level. “Don't try to win me over with empty ardor.” Still, Jenos allowed the hands on his hips. Even without armor Khan's fingers overlapped at the small of his back. Khan couldn't hurt him, not really, but the fantasy of it appealed in a sick way. 

“Doing that would insult us both,” Khan growled. He tugged Jenos closer until Jenos put his hands on his shoulders. “This isn't a negotiation. Just a... Proposition.” 

“Proposition, indeed. Won't your Scion have something to say about this?”

It wasn’t a  _ no _ , and Khan had the feeling Jenos would string him along anyway even if he planned to put a stop to it eventually. Khan smiled, wolfish, and tilted his head. “Lady Lian has no care about who I take to bed so long as my loyalty is assured.” 

“So I’m not the first of your enemies that you have…” Jenos paused, shifting one hand from Khan’s shoulder to his chin. “Taken to bed.” 

“I am a man. I have needs,” he said, as dignified as possible. “And so do you.” That was a hazard. He hoped Jenos would be more amused than offended. He was used to being the blunt counterpoint to Lian’s complex schemes; dancing around the subject, speaking in implication and invitation was a foreign language to him.

“And how do you know that?” Jenos’ nails, trimmed smooth enough that they barely reached his fingertips, pressed into the soft skin under Khan’s jaw. It didn’t feel warning so much as it did a dare, so Khan continued. He met Jenos’ nails with pressure of his own, dragging his thumbs down the fabric underneath Jenos’ ribs. Pushing up. The beginnings of a promise, but still not enough to win a reaction. 

“I still stand.”

Jenos pulled away. Khan dropped his hands and let him go. “So you do.” He floated around Khan and headed toward one of the monastery buildings. Khan wondered if this was it, disappointed but not surprised. Jenos didn’t spare a look over his shoulder, but paused for a long second. “Well?” 

It was as clear of an invitation to follow as Khan could get, so he did. Jenos led him through the stony path of the monastery to a well, pale blue and holding its own light as so many things on this mountain did. He waited bare seconds for Khan to come up to his elbow and then opened one of the doors to the largest building built into the peak. Inside were rows of bunks. Sleep clothes laid folded neatly on pillows, sashes, scarves, belts hanging from hooks on the wall. This part had evidently been made quickly to accommodate people; some of the bunks were simply slots in the stone and set into the wall. Rolled-up bedrolls were stacked in the furthest corner of the room. 

“You sleep here?” He'd expected Jenos to lead him to a private bedroom. It made sense, though. He'd only just recently descended back to the blood and dirt of the Realm. The mental image of their god curled up asleep on a bunk amidst his sleeping disciples was admittedly amusing. 

“I do not require it,” Jenos answered. “I meditate.” 

“Right,” Khan replied. Lanterns hung from the ceiling and sat on the floor, most small, squat things but some nearly as tall as Khan’s knee. Jenos led him to a bunk at the end of the row, larger than the others and with nothing on it. Khan wondered who it was for, but not for long. He wouldn’t want to let scheming get in the way of what he’d come here to do.

“You’re allowed to touch me.” Jenos’ voice, light and amused, broke through his thoughts. Khan looked at him properly, perched a foot above the bunk with his knees crossed as if waiting for Khan to come back to himself.

“I should hope so.” He closed the distance and tugged Jenos to him, noting the sly smirk on the god’s face. He was enjoying this far too much for how little they had done; perhaps it was Khan’s forwardness. After centuries of reverence, no wonder the god didn’t take offense at being pushed around, on his terms at least. Khan didn’t know what to do next—he did, kind of, but that was with his more human partners. They would kiss. He would move his hands downward, or they would. They’d both strip. They’d comment on the size of his dick. He’d brag about it. They would fuck, then fall asleep, unless they had a history of trying to kill each other in which Khan would clean himself up and exit with as much dignity and panache as possible like it was a conquest instead of an arguably regrettable one-night-stand.

He kissed Jenos. He didn’t know what he expected; spit, tongue, teeth, all were present and accounted for. Jenos responded eagerly enough and settled his hands on Khan’s shoulders, angling his hips into Khan’s hand, then gradually shifting until Khan’s palm rested on his crotch. Jenos was nothing if not direct. Khan appreciated it and showed as much with a squeeze; Jenos gasped, knees coming up to trap Khan’s wrist in place. Khan wormed his hand further to cup Jenos and push him closer, upwards, the kiss breaking and Jenos instead tugging at his hair with one hand, covering his mouth with the other. Khan didn’t want to end things too early, even with how Jenos was rubbing shamelessly against his palm.

“How are we going to do this?” He pulled back and let go. Jenos dropped his legs and crossed his ankles, floating down and back to the bunk. His hair followed him. The slight curl at the bottom was entirely gone and now it fell to his lower thighs.

“Generally, when two people decide they are going to have intercourse, they strip.” There was amusement in Jenos' voice, ever patient but now allowing eagerness the upper hand. He was blushing, picking at the fabric of his belt. Khan grunted his agreement. Jenos didn't want to be the first one to be nude; Khan could understand that. For the first time, it occurred to him that he potentially may have more experience in this arena than Jenos.

He muffled a snort by tugging his tunic up over his face. He folded it and set it on the floor, then stripped out of his boots and breeches. He looked under his arm while folding his breeches to see Jenos doing the same, stripping out of unnatural fabric that dissolved into strips of light once removed from his body.

Even naked, the basest human condition, Jenos was obviously no mortal. Without the flares and folds of his clothes he lost a great deal of volume, if not presence. He'd turned away from Khan to strip himself; Khan saw the points of his shoulder blades, the faint outlines of muscle along his back, the ridges of his spine. What he originally took to be freckles were instead tiny pale pinpricks of imitation stars, forming lazy constellations along his back like an imprint of his cape. 

“I forgot to get slick,” Jenos said quietly, almost to himself. 

“Here?” Khan interrupted, incredulous. 

“I ask many things of my devotees. Chastity is not one of them,” Jenos replied idly. “Their... Intimacies hold little interest to me.” He let his hair dangle behind him. Some of the ethereal buoyancy that held it up seemed to fade. It fell past the curve of his lower back and brushed against his thighs. 

Satisfied with that, Khan grunted. Jenos lowered himself to the ground, bare feet touching the stone of the floor. Khan watched him bend down-- he lost no grace, but the utter mundanity of the action held Khan still. Jenos reached a hand under the bunk and pulled out a canister. It was large enough to rest comfortably in his palm. He set it on one of the bunks and motioned Khan over. With a glance down to Jenos' groin, he noted with pleasure that he was half hard still, his excitement not waning from their brief break in action.  _ Poor, repressed monk _ . 

Jenos tossed the canister from hand to hand, stars bunching around it to ease the arc.

“There doesn’t seem like too much left, but it should do.” It floated from his hands to the head of the bunk. Jenos followed it. Only once he was comfortably positioned in front of the bunk, bare feet touching the ground for what had to be the first time in centuries, did he give Khan a more appreciative once-over, skimming over the lines of his muscle and the strength of his build. Khan had always been large and capable, sturdy. It did wonders for building a reputation before he even opened his mouth, a silent monolith at the Aico Scion’s shoulder. It would be an untruth to say he didn’t enjoy making people uneasy, enemies most of all.

Khan could tell when Jenos reached his groin if only because it was a common reaction. He stared for a little. Looked back up at Khan’s face as if to make sure he was still looking at a real man. Looked back down.

“That's not going to fit,” Jenos said finally, voice strained. Khan smirked.

“It will.”

“I have my doubts.” 

“I'm not going to break you,” Khan reasoned. Jenos huffed.

“You couldn't if you tried.” Jenos' feet left the ground again and he propelled himself next to Khan, seating himself with his legs crossed. “You'll need to stretch me.”

“Of course,” Khan dutifully replied. Had Jenos just thought he would try to shove it in with no preparation? No, of course not. “Pass me the slick.”

He didn't know what he'd expected. Not this. Jenos retrieved the slick and tossed it to him in an easy motion. 

“Sit down on the edge of the bunk,” Khan directed. Jenos raised a brow, but obliged. His cock laid against his hipbone, showing interest in the proceedings. Khan reached out to run his thumb up the length. Jenos shivered, spreading his legs the slightest amount to welcome the touch. “I'm going to... warm you up a bit.” 

He knelt. Jenos spread his legs more at an insistent prodding to the insides of his thighs, and Khan made himself quite at home between the split of Jenos' legs. Jenos looked down at him, striking a mixture of imperious and curious. Khan's hand on his thigh circled nearly the entire way around. Khan was used to being much larger than those he took to bed; much larger than anyone bar a Stagalla, and those weren't allies and he didn't think they'd be very good bed partners besides.

Jenos wasn't an ally either, he reminded himself, and broke out of his thoughts to touch Jenos' dick. He’d neglected to make use of the slick. His palm met skin and Jenos grunted, though from discomfort or pleasure Khan couldn't quite discern. When Jenos shifted his hips into the touch, Khan placed it as the latter. He stroked him in long, slow movements until Jenos' breath tightened and caught, until he was breathing out from his mouth instead of his nose. Khan kissed the inside of his thigh. His skin was soft and yielding, unexpected for a god. Khan guessed that he wanted it this way. How far did the control go? He'd expressed concerns about fitting Khan, so clearly there were some human limitations. 

Khan worked inward until he was pressing kisses to the crease of Jenos' leg and groin. He guided Jenos's leg over his shoulder with a hand. The monk sighed, back curving into the motion, and then he moaned when Khan finally took him into his mouth.

It tasted oddly sterile. He didn't know what he expected. There was, of course, the faint salt of skin and precum. Jenos moaned again as Khan licked at him. Centuries of isolation left him reactive. He finished growing to hardness in Khan's mouth. Khan was glad it wasn't enough to choke him, though that had more to do with the sheer difference in their sizes than Jenos’ length. 

Jenos hooked his other leg over Khan's shoulders and Khan levered him onto his back, shifting on the floor to fit more of Jenos into his mouth. Jenos' back arched and he tangled his hands in Khan's hair.

“Ah,  _ more _ .”

Khan would have pulled back to snark but Jenos' hands kept him firmly anchored and his mouth full. He settled instead for obliging him, relishing the needy sounds he won from the god. He barely was getting into a comfortable pattern when Jenos tensed up and bucked into his mouth, cock pumping salty-sterile cum against Khan's tongue. He pulled back, licking his lips. If it had tasted bad he might have spit it out. It didn't, though, so he swallowed it rather than make a fool of himself. 

“This body is... Unused to such sensations,” Jenos explained. A flush saddled his nose and cheeks. Khan nodded and wiped at his face even though he didn’t need to. He would have preferred warning; almost said as much. Maybe Jenos didn’t know how close he was.

“You feel relaxed?” 

“Very.” He moved to make room on the bunk for Khan as if expecting him to join him. Khan obliged and reached for the slick. 

“Then I'll stretch you.”

Evidently Jenos found that agreeable. Khan expected him to decide the position, but remembered again that he seemed satisfied to give Khan most of the choices. “Hands and knees. It will make it easier.”

Jenos shuffled in the blanket and shifted to his hands and knees. Khan put a hand on his lower back and guided him to the right spot, then tapped at his legs to get him to open them. 

“Nice refractory period,” Khan said, and immediately felt like an idiot. Jenos chuckled, shifting balance to one hand to cover his mouth. His shoulder blades pressed appealingly against his skin, muscles rippling and tugging with the movement. It shouldn't have been as alluring as Khan found it. 

“This body is not like yours.” 

“I can tell,” Khan replied. He kissed Jenos' hip and then turned his focus to unscrewing the cap for the slick and scooping a healthy amount out of the container. It was cold, and he wasn't about to jam his fingers covered in ice-cold slick up Jenos' ass both because it would be rude and he wanted to keep his body in one piece, so he let it warm against his skin for a moment, still petting Jenos' back and ass with his free hand. “Ready?”

“I'm ready.” Jenos shifted again back to the position Khan had guided him into. Khan usually balked at describing anyone's private parts as  _ attractive _ , but Jenos' were attractive. His hole was a duskier pink than the rest of his skin, furled and twitching in expectation. Khan didn't intend to leave him waiting. With a careful moment, he aligned one finger against Jenos' hole and pushed in. Jenos arched at the movement and shifted forward, forcing Khan to move with him and grab him by the hip to keep him still; inside of him was a warm stranglehold, hot and tight.

“You need to relax,” Khan prompted. “It will feel better.”

Jenos ducked his head. Hair splayed across the bunk in coiling piles of pale blue. Khan pressed in further, attentive to any discomfort. That wasn't his goal here. While it would be entertaining to watch the monk squirm on his cock, they wouldn't get there if he couldn't even take Khan's fingers. Even though his fingers were large. 

He eased in another finger after allowing Jenos to accustom himself to the one. This second insertion took longer and copious amounts of petting to Jenos' side to get him to relax. 

“Should I go slower?” Khan should have expected this. He did, to a degree. His two fingers were already much larger than anything someone of Jenos' size could or should conceivably take. 

“No.” As if to prove his words, Jenos sank back on Khan's fingers. A blush spread across his face and his breath caught, evidently feeling the stretch. When he was seated to the knuckle, Khan slowly started to draw out. Slick caught on Jenos' rim and dripped down to the soft flesh of his balls, so Khan crooked his thumb to catch the stream; Jenos gasped. His fists clenched in the blanket. Khan smirked and did it again, this time winning a whine. 

Jenos, one with the cosmos,  _ whining _ for him. Khan pushed his fingers back in and enjoyed the power trip. 

Before long he was fucking Jenos with two fingers. Jenos moaned, whined, making breathy noises in the back of his throat, rocking his hips back into Khan's movements. If Khan wasn't careful, he'd come again, and while Jenos had proved his refractory period was utterly inhuman Khan didn't want to end it too early. 

“I'm going to use another finger.” 

Jenos paused. His grip on the blankets relaxed as he considered the present stretch in his ass and the consequence of adding even more. 

“Hurry up,” he said. 

Khan smiled at the imperious tone and obeyed. 

“ _ Relax _ .” At the feeling of another finger breaching his hole, he'd tensed up again. Khan tapped his hip, then rubbed at his thigh until he relaxed. Only then did he finish working a third finger into Jenos' hole, now looser around him but still not stretched enough to take his cock without a significant amount of discomfort. He allowed a minute for both of them to get used to it. Jenos was still searingly hot inside, tightening up with every move Khan made. It seemed a constant, conscious effort for him to stay relaxed as Khan stretched and scissored his fingers inside of him. 

He didn't want to fit his whole hand inside. That would be foolish, and also quite painful. Instead, he merely pushed his fourth finger in beside the others and watched how Jenos tensed, heard the hiss of air past his teeth. 

“Just a little more,” he urged. Jenos huffed. 

“You could have given me forewarning.” 

“Consider it a surprise.” 

Another huff. “Fool,” Jenos said, though it sounded less like a rebuke than he likely intended. Khan slowed down. The movements now had to be torturously teasing, the barest press of Khan's thick fingers against Jenos' inner walls; Khan's thought process was proved right as Jenos started to rock his hips back against Khan's fingers. They both enjoyed the sensation for a moment; Jenos, of fullness, and Khan, of the heat. The urge to properly fuck Jenos burned. He already felt the impact of his thighs against Jenos' ass, the sight of the god's shoulder blades drawing together and his back tensing with the force of Khan's attentions. 

Impatience itched and when he finally couldn't hold onto his patience he pulled his fingers out of Jenos. Jenos winced, clicked his tongue against his teeth, hips uselessly jerking in the empty air and his hole twitching. 

“ _ Khan _ ,” Jenos warned. It was far too needy for Khan to be intimidated by it, though Jenos' voice raw and husky with passion made his cock throb, his grip on Jenos' hip tighten. 

“I'm getting to it,” he responded, and debated whether patting Jenos' flank would get him blasted naked off the side of the mountain. Yes, he decided, it would. He instead repositioned himself and dealt with the awkward deal of lifting his knees high to avoid tangling in the blanket, then rearranging Jenos as well. The awkward choreography cooled the air, if not froze it, and by the time Khan had himself properly situated at Jenos' hips the god was reaching back to feel for Khan's cock. 

Khan wasn't a small man, not by any means; Jenos was small, for both a god and for a man. Khan went into this knowing it would be half an exercise in patience and half an exercise in will. 

Slowly, he fitted his head against Jenos' stretched hole, still shiny and wet with slick. Khan ran his fingers around the edge-- Jenos sighed, a gusty and forlorn noise-- and stroked himself with the excess slick. There was always more, he assured himself, and Jenos was already slick enough. There were times and places to be frugal; bedding a god was most definitely not one of either. 

He pushed in by another inch and Jenos' sigh turned into a hiss. His head dropped, hair pooling in lustrous cords on the blanket. Khan tested the waters with small, slow movements of his hips, pushing no more in and allowing Jenos to get used to the stretch. 

He hoped it wouldn't take this long to hilt himself entirely, even with Jenos making wonderful, needy sounds under him. Khan saw one of his hands leave the blanket and slip under his body. 

“I can take it,” he urged. Khan could easily let go of his restraint and hilt himself in Jenos with one swift, brutal movement. The clutching heat around his cock even seemed to encourage the thought; still, Khan forced himself to go slowly even as he obeyed Jenos' demand. Every inch wrung new, throaty sounds from the god under him. 

When his hips touched Jenos' thighs, Khan figured considering it a religious experience would be sacrilegious, somehow, but Jenos' walls felt like velvet around him and the god's shoulders shook with the sheer length of the intrusion. He tried to force more of himself into the divine heat and got Jenos huffing at him for it. 

He rolled his eyes and started to pull out, holding Jenos' hips in place, until he was nearly all the way out. Jenos' hips flexed under Khan's hands. Secure in the knowledge that Jenos could take it, Khan finally-- finally!-- allowed himself to move properly, impaling himself into Jenos with punishing force and speed. Jenos cried out in surprise and dropped to his elbows, head hovering bare millimeters against the bunk. Khan put his free hand between Jenos' shoulder blades-- his hand was large enough that his fingers tangled in the hair cascading from his head-- and pushed him fully down to his chest. Jenos thrashed against the tangle of the blanket and the pressure of Khan's hand, more because he enjoyed the illusion of struggle than because he couldn't free himself. As if to hold him still Khan let go of his neck and pulled his hair instead. The reaction was immediate and pleasing; Jenos keened. His inner walls tightened around Khan's cock. He almost broke rhythm, but caught himself and drove even harder into Jenos in retribution, looping the long, silky hair around his hand and tugging up. Jenos' head left the surface of the bunk. He scrambled back onto his hands, back an obscene arch with how far Khan pulled him. 

“It looks good,” Khan growled. He leaned over to bite Jenos' neck. He doubted he'd ever get to do this again-- he would go all-out, or as far as Jenos would let him. He tugged his hair one last time before allowing him to collapse back onto the bunk. His whole body shook, hips rocking in time with Khan's brutal movements. Khan replaced the hand in his hair to at his belly and felt, with a sharp spike of perverse pleasure, his cock forcing a bulge into Jenos' slim frame as the god's body stretched to accommodate his length. Jenos' cock brushed against the back of his hand with every movement and Khan shifted it to pin Jenos' cock between his belly and his palm. He let Jenos rut into him, panting and desperate to reach his peak. He kept the other hand on his hip to direct his movements. Orgasm built, a tightly coiled spring, and finally he thrust in entirely and held Jenos to him, coming inside the god. Jenos moaned and hid his face under his arms, still rutting desperately into Khan's hand. 

“I'm not  _ done _ ,” he snapped, wound tightly up and thinking more for his own pleasure than Khan's subsiding afterglow; that afterglow refused to fade and instead kindled to a hotter need, his cock refusing to soften as it should. Khan noted how Jenos most definitely had a hand in that. 

“Turn over,” he urged, and settled back onto his backside, bringing Jenos up with him. Jenos flipped until he was facing Khan, Khan's arms wrapped around him to steady him. It freed up a hand for Jenos to frantically stroke himself as if it were the only thing keeping him alive. He fucked himself on Khan's cock, head dropping to his chest. Khan's own breathing was heavy at the sight and the strange pleasure, building him to another orgasm unnaturally quickly—he hung on the edge but just couldn’t seem to reach it as if his body was forced to wait. 

Jenos came soon after the shift onto Khan’s lap. His entire body stiffened and come splattered on both his and Khan's bellies, alabaster and glowing slightly. He sighed, hand moving lazily on his cock and seated on Khan's lap with his cock still throbbing inside of him, movement slowed to nothing more than twitches of his hips. 

Khan shifted himself and Jenos in turn, dropping the god to the bunk. His back connected and he yelped, shocked into clarity for a moment, but still hazy with the force of his orgasm and now growing oversensitive. Khan built into another rhythm, this one faster and more powerful as he chased down his own peak. Jenos cried out, mouth falling open; entirely on impulse, Khan kissed him, teeth meeting his lower lip, before pulling back and squeezing his hips.

He looked at the god below him, reduced to whimpers. Jenos' eyes met his, spaced-out and hazy with overstimulation. Khan hiked his legs up to get a better angle and hilted himself into Jenos again. He was close; not surprising, considering that a magically-induced erection was exactly that and he didn't know how long it would last. Jenos trembled. His hands fisted in the blanket, chest heaving, legs helplessly up and bracketing Khan's hips. Khan leaned down again to attack his throat. It was exquisite, how the god came apart, his hands clawing at the blanket and then smacking into Khan’s ribs. His trimmed nails bit into Khan's back as he pulled Khan closer to himself. 

“I'm not done yet,” Khan echoed, a wicked smirk on his lips he was sure Jenos could feel. Jenos tried to say something but it came out only in labored  _ ha, ha _ , panting and gasps. Eventually, Khan took pity on him; he pulled out, instead guiding Jenos' legs together, and thrust between the warm heat of his legs. His cock brushed against Jenos' own and the god wailed with the sensation, bucking against Khan and trying to lift off of the bunk. Khan was heavy enough that he couldn't; Khan felt the unnatural propulsion underneath him. Khan finally came, grunted and buried his face in Jenos' neck. The god panted. His legs fell apart and Khan collapsed next to him. 

“Fuck,” he said, suddenly weary.

“Yes,” Jenos agreed. Residual shivers rippled over his body. Khan stroked down his side and fitted a finger into his loose hole, urging Jenos up onto his chest. The god obliged. It took another finger before Khan felt the press of Jenos' walls, a third before he felt a stretch. Jenos trembled. 

“You're wrecked,” Khan hummed, fond and low. He wouldn't be able to get another erection. It was for the best; he still needed to go down the mountain. Jenos rested on his chest. For saying that he had no need for sleep, he looked dangerously close to drifting off. His eyes were soft and glazed over, drunk with pleasure and afterglow. Khan stroked his hair, formerly brilliant but now sweaty and damp.

“Rest here,” Jenos urged. He moved himself off of and away from Khan. His skin's glow sharpened, flared, and once again he looked pristine. Khan smiled, but internally he mourned the loss of the Jenos he’d seen once his demeanor was wiped away.

“Neat trick.” 

“So it is.” Jenos' gaze was cold again, dispassionate. As he turned and left the room, his clothes gathered around him. 

Khan put his head down on the bunk and sighed. Fuck, what had he gotten himself into?

**Author's Note:**

> haha missionary.  
> Please leave a kudos or comment if you enjoyed! Feedback and validation keep me alive.


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